55. Eli #2
Sage pauses with her mug halfway to her mouth. “For actual sleeping?”
“That is the traditional purpose of a bed.”
She gives him a look. “Nothing about this house suggests tradition.”
I laugh.
She points between us. “You two have already fucked. You’ve kissed without using me as an excuse. But choosing the same room before anyone gets naked? That’s progress.”
Micah shakes his head. “It’s a big bed. I work late. I probably won’t even see him unless he gets up to pee at four, and then it’ll be boxer shorts and mutual regret.”
Sage smiles into her mug. “That is the least convincing denial I’ve ever heard.”
“Your whole life is steamy fanfic material,” I say. “You don’t get to judge our pacing.”
“But it would be a way better story if two of my boyfriends did some non-sexual cuddling on the side.”
“Cuddling is your benchmark?”
“Sleeping together when nobody’s had sex? Obviously.”
I look at Micah. He shakes his head and laughs. “Only if you agree to monogram our bathrobes. I want something with gold thread. Eli and Micah: Not Just for Show.”
The line lands, and Sage cackles so hard she almost spills her tea. She ducks her head, messy bun bobbing, and mimes writing it down for later.
I tell myself it’s okay to laugh with them, and so I do.
My phone buzzes to life next to me. Group chat.
MILO:
You all awake? I heard laughter and I hate missing out on fun.
Me:
No one laughed. You’re hearing ghosts.
MILO:
Lying is manipulative, Eli. No one likes a manipulator.
Me:
You literally stalked Sage with a boot tracker.
MILO:
That’s called being PREPARED.
Micah, reading over my shoulder, stops me from replying by gently prying the phone from my hand. “Let it sit for five minutes. Milo only gets funnier when he’s ignored.”
“You’re encouraging him.” I let the phone go anyway. Sage watches me with lazy amusement, waiting to see whether I’ll cave. I change the subject instead. “You excited for pajama night?”
A big grin takes over her gorgeous face. “I am.”
“Sounds like my version of hell,” I say, picturing Sage holding court in her pajamas, Amy turning face masks into a military operation, and Jamie ranking Nutter Butters by childhood trauma.
Milo will spend the night bombarding our group chat about how much he misses his kitten, while simultaneously trying to bribe Amy for photographs.
“It’s going to be epic.” Sage cradles her tea, feet tucked beneath her. “I haven’t had a girls’ night in so long. And I love those two so much.”
Micah grins. “You’re allowed, Sage. You’re allowed to have people who don’t terrify everyone they meet.”
“I like a balance. One set of friends who could kill for me, the other who would help hide the body, but only if it fit in the trunk of a Honda Civic.” She sips.
“You ever wonder if this is all just some wild dream? Or, like, we’re the ones living a TV show and somewhere people are watching and rooting for us to get our shit together and live happily ever after? ”
“Do you want that?” I ask, before I register the edge in my own voice.
She blinks, caught off guard, then shrugs, smiling into her cup. “For this to be a dream?” She shakes her head. “No. I love you all too much to want to wake up from that.”
“Or to have our sitcom season end without the chance for renewal,” Micah adds. And we both just look at him.
“That would be the worst,” Sage says.
Micah picks up on my silence, or maybe just the way I keep watching Sage like if I look away it’ll all evaporate. He opens his mouth, probably to say something reassuring, but my phone buzzes again.
MILO:
If u keep having a tea party without me, I’m gonna come down there and make it weird. It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.
I show them the screen. Sage nearly spits her tea, snorting laughter. “He’s probably at the top of the stairs right now.”
“Feels likely,” Micah says. “He gets separation anxiety if he hasn’t been emotionally validated in the last hour.”
“I think he likes being the problem,” Sage puts in.
The third text lands.
MILO:
For efficiency and community spirit, we should all sleep together. Shotgun not being the little spoon this time.
I sigh and stretch, trying not to admit how much I want that. “We should go up before he wakes the house,” I say, fighting the smile threatening to split my face. “Besides, it’s almost two, and you have to be up for work in a few hours.”
Sage tilts her head, pretending to consider this for the first time. “I could call off. I could say there’s a family emergency. The emergency is that my family is addicted to late-night tea parties and needs ongoing supervision.”
“Convincing,” Micah says. “But you’re still going to pass out before sunrise. Trust me.”
I stand and offer a hand to Sage. She takes it, fingers warm from the tea.
“Fine,” she says. “But if we’re all sleeping together, I get to be the bread and one of you has to be the meat. It’s only fair.”
I cock an eyebrow, instantly seeing the debate forming in Micah’s head—do I want to be the meat, or the other slice of bread? Both options sound like a ticket to heaven or hell depending on the night.
We take our cups to the kitchen and shut off the TV, trudging upstairs. Sure enough, Milo is at the top waiting for us, standing with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak, bare shins and hairy knees exposed.
He grins. “I heard you talking about me,” he says. “And I wanted you to know that yes, you are all my favorite people in this house. Even when you make fun of my emotional needs.”
He shuffles ahead, heading for his room and gesturing we follow.
When we stop in the doorway, we find the bed frame dismantled and two mattresses squished together, taking up all the floor space.
The blankets are already laid out, with a heap of pillows across one end.
Seems Milo’s been working on an architectural project in sleep engineering.
“When did you do this?” Sage asks, looking at the room that is now quite literally just a bed.
“When Eli said there might be ghosts. Gotta check under the bed.”
Sage laughs. “You work fast, Milo.”
“I know. But now we have a bed that’s big enough for all six of us. I’m dubbing it the fuck pit.”
“I love it,” Sage says.
“I knew you would!” Milo fist-pumps then yells into the hall, “EVERYBODY, WAKE UP! GROUP SLEEPOVER!”